


Foul Fae Magic

by LiterallyThePresident



Category: Inn Between (Podcast)
Genre: Illusions, M/M, Minor Violence, and death, but it isn’t real, spoilers for the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21752779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterallyThePresident/pseuds/LiterallyThePresident
Summary: An idea of what Sterling saw in The Game (influenced by chaos gremlin time on the Inn Between discord)
Relationships: Sterling Whitetower/Meltyre (Inn Between)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	Foul Fae Magic

Meltyre’s body had cooled hours ago, but Sterling couldn’t let him go. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been kneeling on the unforgiving ground, cradling the wizard close and weeping openly in a way he hadn’t since he was a child, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Not when the world had gone gray and cold, all color fading from it like red dye down a river. 

Meltyre was _dead_. And it was all Sterling’s fault. He’d failed, utterly and completely. To protect him, to shield him, to keep him _safe_. And now his broken body lay limp in Sterling’s unworthy arms, hat lost and curly hair stained with crimson that somehow dripped steadily to the soil below despite that precious heartbeat having stopped hours ago. His starry freckles stood out even more against the paleness of death, his red-stained teeth just peeking out past the lips he’d once longed so desperately to kiss.

Sterling knew he would have to leave eventually, to lay Meltyre’s body to rest, to notify the others, wherever they had gone. To tell Meltyre’s sisters what had happened, no matter how much the very thought of it made him feel ill. Cuthbert, should he bury Meltyre himself or carry his body to his sisters. Which would be easier for them, less cruel? He honestly didn’t know. 

As if summoned by his thoughts, by the maelstrom of agony tearing him apart inside, a specter appeared before him. Sterling let out a gasp that was more a sob at the sight, and some sick part of him was relieved to see him. It was only right, after all. He deserved this. He deserved to be haunted by the man he’d failed for the rest of his life. If Meltyre wished him dead or worse for all but ripping him from his sisters, then Sterling would gladly accept his fate. Cuthbert knew he deserved far worse.

“Uh, Sterling? the specter asked, and _oh_ his voice was so clear, so beautiful. Sterling felt fresh tears well up at the sound of that beloved voice, and his own voice cracked as he spoke. 

“Leave me alone.” he moaned, though his voice was heavy with resignation, “I failed you.”

“No, y-you didn’t, it’s-it’s some kind of illusion spell.” the specter said innocently, all wide brown eyes and trembling voice. It’s face was bloodless and pale, it’s lips twisted into an expression of pure sympathy and worry, just like in life. The world couldn’t even grant him the decency of a horrific vision, instead electing to taunt him with this shadowy reflection of the man he’d fallen for and let down. 

“I did.” he sobbed. What else could he do, “I _did_.”

“I-It’s a lie, Sterling.” he sounded desperate, and the hands that landed on his shoulders were shockingly warm, “You hear me?”

“A... A lie?” he breathed, hardly daring to hope but clinging to the lifeline regardless, thinking of a soft voice and warm hands. If it wasn’t true, then Sterling had gone mad, and that was what he deserved. But if it _was_ true..., “A lie? It’s a lie?”

If it was true, then that meant Meltyre was here.

That meant he was alive. 

And like a veil had been lifted, his surroundings became clear. Meltyre’s body vanished, insubstantial like air, and the specter before him abruptly became beautifully, wonderfully, painfully solid and _real_. It was all a lie. A _lie_. Meltyre was alive. He was _alive_ and unharmed and kneeling before him like he wanted nothing more than to pull Sterling into his arms. He vaguely heard Fina’s voice, angry and low, but he couldn’t focus on her, absorbed in drinking Meltyre in with his eyes. He looked terrified, more so than usual, and Sterling could see that he’d been crying. He ached to reach out and touch him, to pull him close and never let him go again, but he restrained himself. First they needed to get somewhere safe. 

“That... wasn’t real...?” he could help but ask again over the heady mantra of _Meltyre, Meltyre, Meltyre_ singing through his whole being. His name was a pounding melody in his head, like a drum, or a heartbeat, “None of that was real?”

“This is all a... big illusion.” Meltyre said quietly, his eyes distant, deep in thought, and Sterling couldn’t help but think that all the stars in the sky paled in comparison to his beauty. The others continued to speak, to theorize, and Sterling knew he should be listening, but he was having difficulty tearing his eyes away from Meltyre. He knew he would have to, eventually, but for now he allowed himself this indulgence. 

They would escape this place, together and alive. And once they did, they would return to the inn, and Sterling would yank Meltyre into his arms and hold him close until he was satisfied that the wizard truly was safe, that Sterling hadn’t failed him, that that smile would not be taken by cruel death. 

But for now, it appeared that they had an evil fae to deal with and a Lady to save. In other words, business as usual.


End file.
